Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 19, 1924 — page 109: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

FLOOD. marked in words or figures; and all Wood- hall’s camps and retreats known to, or even suspected by, the artist were indicated by crosses. ‘“T hope ye catch the skunk,” said Dix, handing over the map. “Ye don’t seem to like ‘im, Charlie,” remarked Archie. ‘““T don’t, an’ that’s a fact. no cause to love im.” ‘“ T reckon me an Joe had best push along. The weather’s about due to break, I reckon; an’ she’ll bust right into winter, no doubt about it. Thar’ll be snow an’ ice aplenty the minute this spell o’ Injun Summer’s over, an’ maybe we'll be livin’ on the gun afore we git off of Gunflint Crick. Can ye sell us a couple o’ blankets, Charlie?” ‘“ Sure thing.” ‘An’ we'll stop in on the way down, whether we be afloat or afoot. An’ another thing, Charlie. Can ye git out to the highroad an’ find Mr. Kester an’ tell him ye seen us an’ whar we headed for—all about it. He’s drivin’ a light wagon an’ a big bay mare with two white feet an’ a white star. Maybe he’s passed, but he’d be headin’ back agin sometime; or maybe he ain’t come up this far yet—but ye could wait ‘round or leave word for him. He'll make it worth yer trouble.” “Sure, I’ll find ’im! Whar’d ye leave yer canoe?”’ “At the tail o’ the carry. Felt like we needed a snort afore makin’ it.” “ Ve’ll stop for supper, won’t ye? We cot plenty pork an’ spuds, 1 guess; an’ the bottle ain’t empty.” ‘“ Callate we best be movin’ right along, Charlie, thanks all the same; an’ if ye could make the trip back to the highroad to-night—”’ “Sure thing! Ill start now. She don’t lay more’n two mile back, right here. I won’t stop for supper, neither.’’ Fifteen minutes later, Archie and Joe reached the tail of Hell-an’-All carry, which goes up and around Push-an’-Bedamn rapids. At this point, just below the pool into which the final black and white leap of the rapids dives deep, they had disem- parked and unloaded and ‘lifted out their canoe. I ain’t got 579 ‘What the devil?’’ queried Archie. Joe stared, silent. Archie stepped for- ward and gazed at the rocky ground, then stepped aside and examined a clump of thin and leafless brush, then eyed the pool and the river below it and the long curve of flashing waters above it. He even turned his questing glance to the surrounding shores of rock and wood and to the sky. } ‘Didn't we leave ‘em here?” he de- manded at last. ‘‘ That’s what we done, sure’s shootin’!”’ replied Joe. ‘But I reckon we couldn’t of.” ‘““ Guess not, but I’d of swore to it.” ‘“ Mavbe it was jist ’round that p’int.” But it wasn’t. The canoe and the dun- nage were not there, nor were they below the second point below the pool, nor yet below the third. They were not behind rocks or bushes anywhere along that nar- row strip of passage way between the steep bank and the swift water. Canoe and blankets and rifle and grub were gone, vanished. Joe was stricken dumb, but Archie combed his whiskers and made numerous brief re- marks expressing mystification. Suddenly a change came over the old white-water boy, as if a light had been flashed into his mind. “ Hell!” he cried. “I got it! I might of knowed, for I know her breed. It’s that thar dratted red headed woman!” ‘Took the canoe—took the dunnage— hove ’em into the river, like as not—ihat’s what! I saw mischief in her eye, now I come to think of it. Didn’t ye see it when I asked for Pete Woodhall? I know that breed—them red heads an’ green eyes. Her name was Dudder afore it was Dix, I bet a dollar!” ‘What would she do it for?” asked Joe. “That don’t seem no way for folks to act. What did you ever do to her, Archie?” “Me? Nothin’! But maybe she was thinkin’ of what I was figgerin’ on doin’ to Pete Woodhall. Ye never can tell what them red headed Dudders is thinkin’ of.” They returned to the shack above the head of the carry with all possible speed, only to find it deserted. Even the dog was ECOMIGHOOKS (S@) PSS ate) Ae ¥ Eh te La Th Meee dy 7 OAS ‘